What we like

[Edit: I began this blog off the cuff, and suddenly was called away for family issues. I apparently posted only the first 14 words. My apologies. ]

Back when I was working in the jail, I mentioned to a jailer that I had the night before prepared a great pot of wonderful pinto beans from scratch, and that they had been perfect. The salt pork (or bacon, I really don't recall which I had used), the garlic, the dash of cumin-- all had lent themselves to a superior pot of beans. I had then on this particular night taken the large portion of leftover beans and fried them in a giant cast iron skillet while mashing them with a pair of forks, resulting in a large batch of perfect refried beans. Bacon grease may or may not have been involved. I know that tortillas were employed to consume it.

My co-worker, who had mentioned that he was looking forward to lunch break, said simply, "I don't like refried beans. I don't really care for any beans, but I especially don't like refried beans."

I was astounded. It had never occurred to me that a person would utter such words without preceding them by the phrase "You're not going believe this, but..." or "I know it's bizarre, but..."

I mentioned this to my wife as we were prepping some Mexican fare last night, and she laughed as she asked rhetorically, "Did he also not like pizza, beer, or sex?"

Or coffee?